Compassion. It’s not that I didn’t have any before my epic personal incident. It’s just that life had badgered me into another hole. It’s the hole where I hide away in busyness. The hole where I cram so much into my daily routine that I often don’t get done the things on my list. It’s not even satisfying often times to think that I could finish my tasks another time.

Is it possible for me to show compassion and understanding at this pace? I would say yes, but I know now that it is sometimes doesn’t match where the person you are being compassionate to is at. Taking time to come alongside and truly understand where they are at takes so much time. And most of us feel we have none of that!!

If you can, try to build your days so that rearrangement of more time is possible to give. It will make everyone’s world a little brighter.

P.S. I can’t believe there are so many of you willing to read these super long Facebook posts. Congratulations on finding the time to be compassionate by reading, really hearing, and caring about me…and my story.

Later that day

I learned something new today. My new friend Rick has a catchy motto to live by. “Smoke till you stroke and then stroke till you croak.” I’m wondering where they will start with the issues on THAT one.

Worlds within worlds crumbling apart. A world where rest is imperative, where personal space is negligible, and what they tell me to make important for myself is impossible to obtain.

Today has been a day of changing roommates, of leaking catheters, of wandering confused patients, of an angry doped up old Frenchman yelling at nurses. This time in the hospital is all about ME getting well, but the docs and nurses have so little time to explain and answer. The demanding patients yell and scream and demand more, complaining about what they’ve gotten all the while they get it. No tolerance of anyone so much as even running the tap water. And it’s not bed time! Most of my roommates ask for a sleeping pill and I am sure I understand how a person gets to that point. And the doped up Frenchman who is yelling strange profanities is eyeing my corner of the room, saying it looks like there is a commode here so I have to sleep with one eye open in case he comes to piss on me tonight.

Alas, things could be worse. I could be the angry old man, or the poor soul who doesn’t know who or where he is. I could have had a day where there was no visible progress. Instead, I find peace in struggling for healing without demanding my fair share. I hear the therapists marvel at the progress that’s taking place. They talk about next level exercises and full recovery of what I lost. For what it’s worth, take keeping your health seriously. Losing mobility is not for the faint of heart! Any disease or injury which you can actively choose to avoid, you very well should!! It’s worth the effort.

With the increased motivation to leave this place, I will look for the times and places I can rest, the opportunities to work on recovery, and the anchors of friends, family, my most precious friend Sharon, and my loving healing God who calms me as the whole world around me seems to quake and crumble.